


Dreaming In Stereo

by phantisma



Series: Very Dark Wincest Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait.  Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting.  Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a story that bridges "Where it Hurts" and this one, a one shot written by a friend. The essential information that any reader needs to be aware of is that Sam requests his father to re-brand his thigh, essentially covering the brand given to him by Garrett, and Dean (and John), in a show of solidarity are each also branded.
> 
> Also the rape warning is mostly memory of rape.

The nightmares didn’t come as often anymore, but they did come. Triggered by a flash of memory, a song on the radio…and Sam was helpless to keep his subconscious mind from replaying terror-filled moments in his dreams. Some nights he refused to sleep, feeling them hanging over him, waiting for the lapse of conscious thought to strike.

This was one of those nights. Dean was asleep on the bed beside him in some dive motel in Oklahoma. They’d hunted down a warlock, brought him to ground and trapped him, but not before he’d managed to get his hands around Sam’s wrists and force him to his knees. It had bubbled up and Sam’s screams came out through Dean’s mouth as he struck home with the ritual blade, cutting through the talisman and dropping the bastard to the ground to be taken by his own demons.

Sam could feel his terror feeding back into him from Dean and tried to shake it off. _I’ve got you. It’s okay._

But it wasn’t, and Sam had withdrawn into himself as much as he could on the ride back to the motel. Dean could feel the door close and looked hurt, but relieved just a little too. Not that Sam could blame him. He’d never asked for this strange connection, this always on, always inside one another side affect to what Sam had done to survive. It served them well in many ways…but on nights like this, it took everything Sam had to insulate Dean from his inner fear and the pain that always came along for the ride. 

Like a memory that lived in his skin.

In the dark, Sam sat on his bed with his knees drawn to his chest and concentrated on being still and quiet, on not feeling large hands move over his body, on not hearing a voice in his head claiming him. To some degree it worked.

It was getting close to morning. The light outside the window was shifting from the yellow of the street light to the gray of dawn. Sam shivered and pulled himself up out of himself, glancing aside at Dean as he realized he was being watched. 

“Did you sleep?”

Sam shook his head, not entirely ready to resume speaking. His voice always sounded so weak and childlike after nights like this. “Sam.”

_Dean._ He opened himself to the connection slowly, caressing his brother’s mind even as he shied away from the seriousness of the fear and pain. _I’m fine._

Dean sat up slowly, his eyes dark in the half-light in the room. “I don’t need you to protect me, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and slowly unfolded himself. “I know.” He stretched slowly. “I…was just a little freaked out. I’m better.” He stood and held out his hands as if his standing by himself proved his point.

Dean stood too, stepping in close and reaching up one hand to finger Sam’s hair before pulling him closer. “You can sleep in the car. We should hit the road.”

“It isn’t even properly daylight Dean.”

“I’m itchy. Don’t want to be here.” Dean said, padding his way to the bathroom. He noticed the light was on, but didn’t mention it. Sometimes it helped. 

Sam nodded to himself. Dean was itchy a lot lately. Didn’t like to stay anywhere more than a few nights. Didn’t like to make connections. Sam could feel it under the surface most of the time. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t even really directly think about it. Danger came when they stood still. As long as they were hunting, it was held at bay.

Ridiculous, really, now that Sam thought about it. _You think to much, college boy._

Sam heard the shower start, felt Dean relax under the hot stream of water. The crappy hotel had shitty beds, but their water heater and pressure made up for a lot. Sam felt fingers on his chest and closed his eyes, reveling in his brother’s use of their connection and his hands. _Want you._

Sam almost wasn’t aware of walking to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went, but as the steam enveloped him, he melted against Dean, their lips sliding together as if they had never been apart. Dean’s hands slid up into his hair, always starting there, always cementing his touch in the one place Sam still felt safe to touch. It short circuited the warnings, cut off the danger signal that might otherwise have him cowering in the corner instead of sliding against the shower stall so that Dean could touch him and hold him and kiss him until they were both quivering and their thoughts were a jumbled mess of _yes_ and _there_ and _Sam_ and _Dean_. 

Somehow it was always easier after, when Dean had coaxed Sam to orgasm and held him through the shaking and the connection blossomed to encompass them both so that talking and even thoughts formed into words was simply unnecessary. They dressed and gathered their belongings and climbed into the car and kept moving.

And under it all, half asleep in the passenger seat, Sam felt it coming. Not enough to put a name to…but enough…

 

Dean watched Sam pretend to sleep, felt his thoughts consciously putting the night behind him…almost forcefully. He didn’t know where they were heading. It didn’t matter. He just couldn’t sit still. 

They would find something else that needed killing and they would hunt. It was what they did and how the dealt with it. It. This thing. 

He didn’t have the words to define it, that was Sam’s thing. It was everything all wrapped up together; Garrett, the past, the sex, the guilt, the general fucked-up life they were living, Sam, Dean and this _SamDean_ connection. 

He was learning how to function when Sam closed it down. Those first weeks had been intense with Sam’s thoughts and his own blurred together, their bodies on some rush toward nuclear meltdown. They’d driven their father crazy with the half spoken conversations. The first time he’d felt the wall go up, Dean had physically staggered, unaware how much he’d come to rely on it, on Sam.

Of course, it was necessary. Without it, Sam’s nightmares could actually leave welts on Dean’s skin, not to mention the images and mental anguish. They never talked about it. Sam still kept so much of himself hidden, even from Dean. Maybe that was a good thing. Heaven knows Dean could barely deal with what he did know. That fury had served them well enough when it came to Garrett, but couldn’t do much to help them now.

Dean felt Sam shift into something resembling sleep and sighed in relief. He was still itchy, needing…something he couldn’t name. There was danger, he knew it. He just didn’t know where it was coming from. So he drove, away, into…anywhere, as long as they were moving.

 

Sam could feel the road under them, tasted moisture in the air…and the coffee Dean was drinking. Groggily, he raised his head, groaning as the muscles in his neck protested the long hours in the uncomfortable position he’d finally fallen asleep in. “Where?” he asked sleepily.

_Texas._

Sam sat up a little more, stretching as much as the confines of the car would allow. It was dark. He’d slept longer than he’d thought. “You should rest.” He could tell Dean was tired, but wired too. 

“Later.”

“What’s in Texas?”

Dean shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Figure we’d pull off in the next town and do some research, see what’s out there.”

Sam let his mind caress his brother’s, comfort, familiarity. Dean smiled and touched Sam’s thigh. For a while they drove in silence. “Have we heard from Dad?”

Dean shook his head. “Not since you talked to him a few days ago. Why?”

Sam made a face that Dean felt more than saw. “Just…a feeling.” _Danger…trouble…fear_.

“Yeah.” Dean glanced aside at his brother. “Anything concrete?”

Sam shook his head. “No dreams, no visions…just…” He chewed on his lip. There hadn’t been any since Garrett. He wasn’t sure if that was a relief or a concern. “Something’s coming, Dean.” _Something big_

Dean squeezed his knee, then returned his hand to the wheel. “We’ll call him in the morning.”

Sam nodded and turned to look out the window. The shakiness of the night before was gone and he felt a little stronger for it. It had been two months since his last nightmare, and he’d avoided this one. He couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on eggshells, waiting, expecting. 

_It’s okay._

Sam looked at his brother. “What is?”

Dean smiled. “Everything. Us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam chuckled. “Okay.”

“It will get better.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Sam felt Dean’s worry, relief, love in a wave. _Need you._ Sam slid closer and let his head come to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “Always,” he whispered. Dean’s hand found its way back to Sam’s thigh, sliding down between his legs. Sam moaned, instantly hard as Dean’s hand cupped him, his thoughts almost palpable as they raced over various memories of touching, sucking…fucking… _Dean._

“Motel.” Dean’s grin was nearly evil as he guided the Impala off the road and left Sam waiting while he went in to get them a room. While Dean was inside the office, Sam let his hand slide into his jeans, stroking himself with a grin, knowing that Dean was feeling every touch. He could see him all but dancing at the counter. 

He was back, and the engine roared to life as he pulled them up to the door of their room. His eyes were wild with lust as he looked at Sam. _Inside. Now. Need. Want._

Sam swallowed hard and opened his door, reaching into the back seat for his duffle before he felt Dean’s hand on his. _Leave it. Later. Now._ His hand was on Sam’s waist, pulling him back onto his hip, half dragging him to the door. It wasn’t even fully closed before Dean had his hands in Sam’s hair, dragging his face down for a kiss and Sam’s knees shook as Dean kicked the door closed and started to pull at his brother’s clothes. 

Sam dragged his t-shirt up over his head and dropped it, his hands moving around Dean’s waist, his thumbs rubbing circles under the waistband of his jeans. He could feel an echo of it on his own skin, coupled with the feeling of Dean’s hands pulling on the fly of his own jeans. Then there were lips on his chest, kissing over skin and they were turning, falling…laughing as the bed groaned and they tried to continue undressing without letting their hands leave each other’s bodies.

They tossed around and somehow managed to find nakedness, and Dean was under Sam who was kissing his way around his navel, his hair tickling and sending shivers through Dean’s stomach. When Sam’s lips found their way to his thigh, everything stilled for a moment. His tongue traced over the curves of the W…the mark that had changed them. _Mine_. He could feel the ghost of his movements on his own thigh, on his own mark.

Dean’s hands were in his hair, his cock hard, his breathing harder. _Yours. Forever, Sammy._ Sam moved a hand closer, never really touching it…never had except for lips and tongue. He hadn’t wanted it for Dean…and it never failed…when he saw it…when he saw the evidence of what his brother gave him, it awed him in ways he had never found words for. 

“Fuck me, Sammy. Please.” Dean’s voice was needy and raspy and Sam could feel the desire in the pit of his stomach. 

_Can’t_. Sam moved, rolling them so that he was on his back and Dean was curled up beside him. 

_Need. Want._

Sam closed his eyes, a part of him disconnecting, hiding the images his brother’s request brought to mind. He hadn’t, not since he’d done it to save them both. He always managed to maneuver them into something else, to sucking Dean off or Dean fucking him. _Can’t._

Dean’s hands moved to cup his face, his lips brushing over Sam’s, and…unexpectedly, his thoughts pushing past the wall. _Want you…all of you…don’t shut me out._

Sam swallowed, but didn’t fight, didn’t want to hurt him…and Dean’s hand closed around Sam’s cock, and there was lube and Sam didn’t remember Dean even looking for lube. Dean’s eyes held Sam’s as the image lay there between them.

Dean bound, beaten and naked. Sam slowly preparing him. _It’s me or him, Dean. I don’t want him doing this to you. I need you._

Dean positioned himself, holding Sam’s cock and guiding it into him. Sam stiffened, a whimper in his throat. “Please Dean,” he whined, though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for.

_Right here, Sammy. Trust you._

Sam’s breathing hitched as Dean’s ass opened up, taking him slowly inside. He felt the echo in his own ass and shifted just a little, easing the passage. He tried to shut off the memory, but Dean held it between them. _Stay here…just you and me…alone…_

Dean began moving, stroking Sam in and out of himself, his hands cupped again around Sam’s face, as the image Sam had created for him when they’d been Garrett’s prisoners bloomed around the memory of what had actually happened. _You saved me, Sammy. Here. Right here._

“Dean!” Sam arched up, pushing into his brother. The motel room in their shared memory slowly took on characteristics of the motel room around them, bringing Sam back to the now, back to the feeling of his cock filling Dean and Dean’s voice chanting his name both in his head and out loud.

Sam grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled him harder onto him as he came. Dean’s own orgasm was only a split second behind and he collapsed bonelessly on top of Sam, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, his head tucking neatly in the crook of Sam’s neck.

After a moment, when their breathing had slowed, Sam rolled them onto their sides, Dean already on his way toward sleep. He kissed Dean’s forehead and settled in, not so much to sleep, but to hold this moment for a while, his thoughts tangled messily around Dean’s...nightmares forgotten for now.

 

Somewhere near dawn, Sam drifted into dreams that were as much Dean’s as his own, childhood games and lessons in hunting when they could pretend it was still a game. When he woke, it was well past noon and Dean was sitting at the table with a newspaper. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Everything okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you?”

Dean smiled. “Just looking for something to hunt.” He held up the newspaper. “Looks like the pickings are slim around here.”

Sam crawled out of the sheets, feeling sticky and slightly self conscious. “Why’d you let me sleep?”

Dean shrugged. “Thought you needed it.” He met Sam’s eyes. _I’m okay, Sammy._

Sam sighed. _Don’t want to hurt you again._ He turned to head to the bathroom, noticing Dean had brought in their things. Dean stopped him, a hand on his arm, drawing him back, into his arms. He pulled Sam close.

“Sam, maybe we need to talk.”

Sam smirked a little, though he wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Gonna get girly on me, Dean?”

Dean squeezed him. _If I have to._ Out loud he said, “Come sit down.”

Sam let himself be drawn back to the bed and sank down beside his brother. “You know I wanted that last night, right?”

Sam sighed again, but nodded. “On some level, yeah, I know, Dean.” 

“I mean it, Sammy. I’ve wanted it for a long time.” 

They were quiet then and Dean’s desire, the truth of it was there for Sam to feel, even if he didn’t want to feel it just yet. “I—hurt you. I let him make me hurt you.” Sam took a deep breath. 

“You could have let him do it.” Dean said, his voice cold. _Wanted you, Sammy…only you._

Sam shook his head, lowering it so that his hair covered his eyes, protected him from…from admitting… _No. No. Not that._.

“You did what you had to, Sammy.” _Don’t cut me out._

“What do you want Dean?” 

_Everything._

Sam sucked in a shuddering breath and turned to his brother, eyes brimming with tears. _Are you sure?_

Dean’s hand squeezed Sam’s and pulled it up to cover the spot on his thigh where he had taken his vow in flesh. _Everything._

Sam nodded once. He took Dean’s free hand and placed it on his own thigh. He dropped the wall, all control over the connection, and there was a tangled moment as their minds and bodies crashed together. _Yours…everything._

Images filled them, some from Sam’s mind, some from Dean’s until it sorted out into a kind of retroactive _SamDean_ and they were in the dirty little room in the broken down manor at the outskirts of Juarez.

_“Do you see now? How he is mine?” Garrett’s voice swam through the swamp of emotions and pain. “Shall I show you?”_

_**Don’t panic. Concentrate. Dean. Oh, God Dean…understand, please.** _

_Sam was on his knees, his mouth filled with Garrett’s cock. Dean seethed. **Want me to touch Dean. Me…obeying you…break Dean, show him how much I belong to you.**_

Dean gasped, but didn’t let Sam pull away. 

_Sam’s hand was on Dean’s chest. **Dean.** That first touch. Dean was on the floor, Sam beside him. **Oh Dean, god…I can’t…I can’t…** Sam’s hands stroked over Dean’s back, reaching out to him through touch, his mind dancing closer and closer to the contact he needed. **Do you understand Dean? It’s me or him.** _

Dean felt Sam shuddering. He shifted slightly closer, swallowing as the memory moved. 

_Sam was inside him, his body pressed against Dean’s. **Forgive me….oh god, just understand….Dean…I don’t want him doing this to you….I need you…I have a plan…but god, Dean…** _

“Sam.” Dean groaned out loud and it was as if some final dam broke. There was shame, so much shame for what he’d done, for knowing that he had been helpless, for…. _No, Sam…not your fault…_ It flooded through him, images and emotions and pain…so much that he felt his stomach roll, threatening to explode. 

It was worse than the nightmares, even the really ugly one that seemed to last forever in those first early weeks after Garrett died, because it wasn’t Sam transmitting the pain, it was _SamDean_ living it…the beatings, the rape…the way Garrett had discovered about their twisted, guilty secret, the way Sam had come, violently at Garrett’s hands, screaming Dean’s name…how he broke, bit by bit by bit, until he’d simply stopped…the branding…the searing, incredible pain… _god Sammy…love you so damn much._

Dean could barely form coherent thought beyond that…beyond wrapping everything that was left of him around his brother and holding this sharing sacred, a trust that could shatter them both…or cement them together forever.

Dean broke the physical contact briefly, then pulled Sam close, kissing his cheeks, drying his tears, despite the ones pouring down his own cheeks. _My precious Sammy._ Dean let the pain and grief and anguish wash through them for a moment, then consciously turned to another memory, equally painful, but filled with a commitment worthy of this trust. 

_"All for one and one for all," Dean muttered._

_Sam hyperventilated as John moved to tie him down. John. **Have to do this to be safe, keep you from hurting yourself or Dean.**_

_Sam swallowed and closed his eyes. **I know I know I know. Just scary. Can't stand being locked down. Scary Scary Scary.**_

_Dean’s touch was gentle, loving. **It's ok Sammy. I'm here, right next to you. It will be over in 2 minutes and Dad will untie you. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.**_

_Dean had come to first, and was cradling Sam’s head when he came round, their thighs side by side, angry red and swollen around the black char of the mark. The morphine had dulled the pain some, but not the loving pride that bound them together, _SamDean_ and then, as their father asked them to mark him too, _SamDeanJohn_._

Sam shuddered, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Dean’s hands stroked through Sam’s hair, consciously keeping his hands in the safest of places, slowly drawing them apart enough to function. They both took deep breaths and deliberately moved away from one another, Dean’s hand stroked down the back of Sam’s head, cupping the back of his neck briefly.

“Okay?”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look up. “Why don’t you shower. I’ll see if I can find us someplace to eat.” Dean could feel Sam pulling himself together, his thoughts sluggishly turning to realize he was hungry.

As the bathroom door closed and the shower started, Dean reached for his cell. “Hey Dad.”

“Is everything okay?”

Dean smiled sadly. “Yeah. Sam’s just got this…feeling. He wanted me to check in with you.”

“Where are you?”

Dean shook his head. “Not sure. North Texas.” Dean stood up and paced away from the bed. “Sam’s…better…I think, but he’s on edge.”

_Dean_

Dean turned for the bathroom. There was a giant spike making its way between his eyes…Sam’s eyes. “Dad.” Dean gasped as he started for the bathroom. Random images fired in his head…a girl, a demon… **the** demon…furniture flying…

“Dean?” Concern flooded his father’s voice. 

Dean gasped as it struck harder and he felt Sam’s knees hit the tile of the shower. “Vision,” he gasped out. “Call you back.”

He dropped the phone and went to Sam, even as more images washed through them. A little girl possessed. A house in chaos. Demons. Lots of demons. The pain radiated even after the images stopped and Dean shook a little as he helped Sam stand up. “Are they always like that?”

Sam nodded. “Pretty much.” 

“Wow.”

Sam smiled a little. “Go take an aspirin. Let me finish my shower,” he said weakly. 

“Will you translate that whole thing for me later?”

Sam shook his head. “No need. Its got one of us. One of us.” _The little girl is like me…it’s starting_.


	2. Chapter 2

John waited a whole half an hour for Dean to call him back. He didn’t wait patiently. He had heard the strain in Dean’s voice, felt the emotion that he was accustomed to in Sam’s voice. He’d sensed the stabbing pain before Dean hung up the phone.

When the phone did ring, John jumped, pacing away from the truck where’d he’d pulled off the road. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Dad. We’re fine.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

Dean sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“Its been a rough couple of days, Dad. Sam topped it all off with a vision. It was a doozy.”

“Is Sam okay?”

Dean sighed again. “Yeah. Tired, but okay. We’re getting some food.”

“So what was this vision?” 

“Demons. A little girl possessed. Sam says its our demon. That it’s in her.”

“Do you know where?” John didn’t like this. Not now. Not when his boys were still recovering.

“No Dad. Sam was already pretty wrecked after a couple of bad nights. He says he couldn’t hold on to it long enough to get more.”

“I’m coming to you.” It was quiet for a long time. John almost thought Dean had hung up. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Dad. We’re in a town called Perryton, at the Out of the Way Motel.”

“I’ll be there in two days.”

“We’ll be here.”

John hung up his phone and climbed into the truck. He needed coffee. It was going to be a hard ride to Perryton.

 

Sam looked up as Dean re-entered the diner. His pupils were blown wide and there were dark circles under his eyes. Dean sank into the booth and pulled his coffee to him. “Dad’s coming?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, a couple of days.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Dean.” Sam’s voice is quiet, nearly flat, like he’d run out of emotion to color it.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s on his way.”

They were quiet then, not that words were necessary for what was passing between them. The waitress brought their food, steaks and fries because Dean had insisted Sam needed the protein. As Sam was finishing he looked up. “Do we have anymore of the sleeping pills?”

Dean nodded. “A few.”

“I need…to sleep.” _Need to get ready._

Dean leaned back against the booth. He knew, the tired permeated him, ate into his bones. At least only one of them needed to take the damn pill. He could just let it lull him under as it pulled Sam. “Come on, Sammy.” He helped Sam up, dropping money on the table before slipping his arm around Sam’s waist, not caring what anyone thought as Sam’s head rested on his shoulder.

 

_”Sam.”_

_The darkness swirled around him. He was alone, alone in the dark. “Sam.”_

_It whispered…half familiar…”Sam.”_

_Jess. “Jessica?”_

_The darkness moved, parted and she was there, blond hair lifting on a breeze he couldn’t feel, as if she were somewhere else entirely. “You aren’t ready,” she whispered._

_Hot tears burned his cheeks as he reached for her. “Jessica.”_

_“Can’t touch Sam. Not yet.”_

_Sam shook his head. “I—I don’t know what to do.”_

_Her smile was soft. “You need to prepare. You need to be ready. It’s coming for you.”_

_She stepped backward. “No, Jess, don’t go.”_

_“Sleep Sam. I’m always right there with you.”_

_“Jess.”_

Sam whispered into the cold air of the room, clutching at the blanket. On the other bed, Dean mimicked his movements, his own voice whispering an echo.

 

“Dad.” Sam sat up quickly, reeling a little as the room spun and the blood rushed through him. Dean jumped up from the chair where he’d been sitting.

“Dad…” Sam said it again, breathlessly.

“Sam?” _Show me, let me see._

Sam held out his hand and Dean took it, not sure why he needed the physical contact. _Hurt, blood._ came first…then images. The truck had been hit, forced off the road. _We need to go._

Sam was up and shrugging on jeans, urging Dean wordlessly as he searched for his shoes. _Hurry._ He grabbed the keys and had the car started before Dean was even out the door.

“Where is he?”

Sam shook his head. _Need to concentrate._ He caressed against Dean gently before he strengthened the connection. _Help me._ He’d never connected with his father over this much distance…it wasn’t as strong as the thing with Dean…it was guarded and John had never lost himself into Sam the way Dean had. 

There. It was faint. _Dad._

“Fuck! Sam, the road.”

Sam hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes. He opened them in time to pull them back on the road. “Sorry.”

“Dude, let me drive.”

“I’ve got it.”

Sam held to the tentative feeling and drove toward it. The skies around them were darkening. “How long did I sleep?”

Dean clenched his jaw as Sam took a curve wide. “Almost 30 hours.”

“Damn. What about you?”

“About half that. Dude, watch it.”

Sam grinned, but took the next turn a little more cautiously. “Nearly there. Hold on.”

Up ahead of them Dean could see headlights off the side of the road. “There, Sam.”

“I see.” Sam slowed the car, pulling off into the gravel. 

Dean was the first out of the car, half way to the truck before Sam got the car stopped and in park. “Dad!”

 _Dad. We’re here._ Sam could barely feel him, even this close. Sam followed Dean, starting as Dean pulled the truck door open with a groan of stressed metal. John was slumped against the wheel, blood on his forehead. _Dad._

 _Sam_. It was a caress, the feeling of his mind sliding more fully into the connection. _Careful. Tried to kill me._

Dean helped him sit back, his hands already moving over his father in search of injuries. _No, scare you. Wants us scared._

John’s eyes opened, his hands batting away Dean’s. “I’m…okay.”

“Like hell.” _I can feel it, Dad._ There was the concussion, and pain in his ribs. 

There was the roar of an engine in the distance. “It’s coming back.” John said through clenched teeth. “We need to get out of here.”

“Move over. I’ll drive.” Dean said.

Sam hesitated until Dean _pushed_ …then he was stumbling back to the Impala, fumbling with the keys and squealing the tires to follow Dean and his father and the beat up truck. 

It was behind them…Sam could taste the sulfur. _Faster._ The truck sped up and Sam followed. _Another mile. Dirt road, on the right. Pull in. Stop. Dark._

He felt Dean’s disagreement. _Are you crazy?_

Sam gritted his teeth as he felt it crawling up behind them even though he couldn’t see the headlights yet. _Trust me_

He saw Dean kill the lights on the truck even before he made the turn. The trees that shaded the road would serve his purposes and he had the Impala stopped and dark and was outside it before his father or Dean had done more than look behind them. Sam grimaced and sent a quick _hold on_ to both of them before _slamming_ up a wall between them, and another between him and the road. 

He watched it coming, felt them pushing back toward him and dug deep inside himself to strengthen it…and the semi roared past them, reeking of sulfur as it barreled down the dark back road. Sam’s head turned, tracking it, pushing the wall after it… _pushing it_.

He dropped the barrier between him and his family, sinking with a little relief into the feeling of Dean, despite his anger. In the distance an explosion painted the night sky and he dropped everything, half turning as Dean’s voice registered.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean’s hand was on his arm and Sam turned to him, dimly aware he was grinning. Dean touched his face, his thumb caressing his upper lip and coming away with blood on it. _Sam._

John limped up beside them, looking from Dean to Sam. “What did you do?”

Sam shook his head, but that only made his knees buckle. _Wall, couldn’t see you…us…_

Dean’s hand held him up, held him against the door of the Impala. John’s face swam in front of his eyes. “And the explosion?”

“There was a cliff a few miles back.” Dean said. “Sam pushed him over.”

John turned dark eyes to his elder son. “He what?”

 _Explain later. More coming. We need to get away from here._ Sam wiped the blood away from his nose. 

Dean snorted. “Like I’m going to let you drive my car now?”

“You drive Dean. I’ll take the truck.” John said, turning away.

“Like hell.” 

“That’s twice you’ve said that to me tonight.”

“And I’ll say it again if I have to Dad. You are not driving with that concussion. We’ll hide the truck. It’s beat to hell anyway and probably wouldn’t make it far.”

John and Dean stared at each other, pushing at one another across Sam until Sam stood upright and stepped between them. 

“Dean’s right Dad. Let’s get your things.” John didn’t argue with Sam. He hadn’t argued with Sam for a long time now. Five minutes later, they were roaring back toward the motel. An hour later they were roaring out of Perryton.

 

The first stop they made was for gas. As they finished filling the tank, and John emerged from the bathroom with his face cleaned of the blood that had seeped from his busted forehead, Sam felt them. He looked up from the counter where he was buying M&Ms for Dean and sodas for them all and the cashier’s eyes turned black. He backed away, out the door. _Gotta move. Now._

Dean saw it at the same time, another customer at the opposite pump, eyes black as night as they locked onto him. “Dad, in the car!” 

The mechanic joined the others, herding the three of them into the car and Dean wasted no time pulling away from them. At the junction two miles up the road they were in cars blocking two of their choices and coming up behind them. Dean pulled them on to the clear road and pressed the pedal to the floor.

“I don’t like this.” John said. 

“Me either.” Dean agreed. “They want us to go somewhere.”

Sam was quiet, closing his eyes. Dean reached for him but Sam held his hand up. _There._ Sam pointed without moving. A gravel road led north. “Follow this a few miles. It connects to a back road.”

John’s hand closed over his shoulder. “I’ll explain when we get some place safe. Promise.”

Dean snorted and Sam poked him. The next mile or so passed in silence, until the passed the gates of a small cemetery. “Sacred ground.” John murmured. “Smart boy.”

Sam smiled. “It should buy us a little time.” His head fell back against the seat. “The road is up ahead. Turn left.”

 

An hour later Dean parked the car behind the motel while Sam helped John into their room and started assessing his wounds. Sam wrapped himself around his father, half to comfort him, half to keep him from questioning too much for the moment. His fingers were delicate as they moved over the angry, bruised skin of his chest.

“It isn’t broken,” he murmured. He felt his way into John’s body, nodding as he confirmed what his fingers told him. “Concussion, bruised rib, sprained ankle. I think you’ll live,” he said with a smile as Dean joined them.

“Good. Now, explain.” Dean had his hands on his hips and was radiating anger. _What the hell was that, Sammy_

Sam sighed. _You should know._

Dean cocked his head. He felt Sam directing his thoughts to the afternoon when he’d asked for everything. His concentration had been on the immediate, the issues with Garrett, with them. He hadn’t realized how much more there was.

“Is someone going to share with me?” John said, his voice irritated, but holding a hint of amusement as the expression on Dean’s face changed. 

“Apparently, Sam’s gifts have been growing…changing.” Dean crossed his arms, the anger draining. “He’s moved things before…once.”

Sam sank to a seat against the headboard of the nearest bed. “I had a vision of Dean dying, and I pushed a piece of furniture with my mind.”

“When was this?”

“Before Garrett.” Sam said. “Never like this though. Never this big.”

“How?”

Sam shrugged. _Just did. Knew what it wanted, how it found us._ He opened up the connection more, his hand reaching for his father’s, his eyes drawing Dean closer. There were no words, only the feeling as it had come to him…then the feeling he’d gotten from the demons that took over the people at the gas station. _West. Its somewhere west of here, and wants to push us there._

“Why?”

“We aren’t ready. It is.” Sam said.

“Ready for what, exactly?” Dean asked.

“To finish what it started when it took your mother.” John said, his face suddenly tired.

_So we get ready._

Sam smiled for his brother, but in his heart he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “For now we rest, research…figure out where it is…figure out how…” He grimaced and closed his eyes. Dean’s hand rose to his head, as if it could hold off the pain. Sam gasped as the images came. His father stiffened, pulled deeper into the connection as Dean’s hand landed on his knee and the pain erupted.

_The little girl. The demon. Yellow eyes. “Think you can hide from me, boy? Think they can help you?” it whispered in a voice to old and too masculine to be hers._

He felt Dean almost physically, bright, hot and beside him the cool reserve that was his father, both of them caught in the images with him. Both reeling under the pain. _No._ He pushed them away, or tried to, but Dean resisted, and John didn’t budge and Sam felt it slip away, the images fading to black, his head reeling before Dean’s hands were in his hair.

“Got you.” Dean was swaying on his feet and John looked like he was going to throw up when Sam finally opened his eyes. “We got you.”

Sam shook, but nodded for Dean, wanting to reassure him, wanting him to be right. “I’m okay.”

Dean released him and stepped back, surveying his family with an eye keener than many might give him credit for. “Okay. Sleeping pill for you.” He pointed at Sam. “Pain pill for you.” He pointed to his father. “Bed for both of you. I’ll walk down to the little Mom & Pop we saw coming in and get us some food.”

John looked like he was going to argue, but Dean cocked his finger at him. “Not a chance. I’ll salt the door and windows before I go…put a seal on the door.”

John sighed and shook his head. “Yeah…okay. I could use some sleep.”

“Damn right.” Dean fished out the last of the bottle of pills they’d hoarded, a few Vicoden, some Percocet and two of the sleeping pills they'd scammed or stolen in recent months. He handed them out and glared at them both until they’d taken the pills, then waited while they settled onto the two beds and at least pretended for his benefit that they were doing as he’d ordered.

He made quick work of the salt lines and let himself out, chalking a protective mark on the doorstep before pulling the door shut. He waited there, feeling Sam’s breathing deepen, his heart slow from the rapid fluttering that always came with the visions. No matter what he’d said, he wasn’t leaving until he knew Sam was asleep.

Not now, not after he’d realized…Missouri had seen it in Sam, tested it a little…it had been Missouri who had sent them to Carrie Rendon, the petite little dynamo who had taught Sam a modicum of control after the incident with Max Miller. But Carrie had sacrificed herself to protect the children of the town from an angry spirit tied to her ancestors before they had gotten very far.

Dean was scared. What Sam had done was so far beyond anything he had thought possible. What Dean had seen in the vision, what he’d heard…what he wasn’t even sure Sam had seen and heard…the voice that whispered to him…Dean knew what it wanted, and it knew exactly how to get it. And that, more than anything, shook him right down to his boots.


	3. Chapter 3

_”Sam.”_

_“Jess.” Sam doubled over, his stomach burning as she stepped out of the dark. “Jessica.”_

_Her smile was soft. Her hand rose up as if to touch him, then stopped. “I’m so proud of you Sam.”_

_“What’s happening to me?”_

_“You’re getting ready.”_

_He shook his head. “No…it doesn’t feel like…”_

_Her smile faded. “They doubt you. They’re afraid for you.”_

_He nodded. He knew that. He could feel it in their eyes. “I need them.”_

_She shook her head, her eyes on his. “No Sam. They need you.”_

_“Dean—“_

_She laughed. “Dean needs you the most Sam. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore without you.”_

_“No, Jess. God…He’s…” His voice trailed off as she moved closer. The ends of her hair danced with tiny flames. He could feel her, not exactly physical…but more than just…static. “Jess.” It came out as a moan as tears filled his eyes._

_“If you stay with them you will get them killed.”_

_“No.” Sam shook his head, but in his mind he could see them both reeling after the last vision, feel his pain echoing back to him through them and back out again. Sooner or later the loop would get to be too much._

_“Sam, they can’t handle the visions, not with what’s coming.”_

_Sam closed his eyes. “I need them.”_

_“You have me.” Her hand touched his cheek and fire raced through him._

_“Jess,” he gasped, his hand flying up to touch hers. “My God…”_

_“Come to me, Sam.”_

_She was stepping away and he could still feel her touch on his face. “Jess…”_

_“You know where to find me. I’m waiting.”_

“Jess!” Sam sat up, grabbing at his cheek, finding it warm to the touch. His father mumbled and opened his eyes.

“Sam?”

Breathing heavy, Sam tried to pull himself together. _Dream_. He recoiled then from the connection, from the comfort and love he could feel from his father. He was still trying to calm his heart when the pain stabbed him through the head and he fell back into the pillow screaming. _Screaming. Agony. People writhing as demons tormented them._

“No!” He felt John’s hands on him, but pushed him away. “Need to see.”

_The little girl, her dress dripping with blood. Her eyes glowing yellow-gold. “I’m going to kill them just like I did your mother. You’ll feel their blood on your face.”_

The pain intensified, Sam’s hand fisted in the sheets under him as he screamed, vaguely aware his father was yelling too. _The little girl screamed, reaching for him. All around her others gathered, children…bodies that once were children, now filled with darkness, their eyes black. “You know what I want.”_

Sam did know. _”I’ll make it easy for you.” The building…familiar…terrifyingly familiar. His home for his last year at Stanford, Jessica’s face in the window._

“No!” Sam screamed, even as the vision faded. He lashed out wildly, felt blood dripping from his nose and tried to breathe through it…but the blackness hit and he lost consciousness.

It was brief, his head pounding as he sluggishly pulled himself up. John lay half across him, knocked out by the same blast. Sam pulled himself free and climbed to his feet. His stomach shook, part from the sleeping pill still in his system, part from the pain in his head, part from what he was about to do. 

His duffle was on the floor near the door. He took a minute to shove several weapons into it from out of Dean’s. He went back to his father and squatted next to him. He wasn’t hurt…he could tell that much without touching him, but it would be a while before he woke. All the better for Sam. _I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t keep hurting you. It’s time to end this._

Before he could change his mind, Sam grabbed his bag and opened the door, startled when Dean fell toward him, across the door step. “Dean.”

Sam knelt down, checking for a pulse. He was alive. Sam looked around them, but they were alone. It was obvious he had done this, just like he’d done to his father. Sam set his jaw and put his bag down. He couldn’t leave Dean out here alone and vulnerable.

He put his hands under Dean’s shoulder’s and dragged him into the room, dragging salt with them. Once Dean was in the room, Sam tidied up the salt line in front of the door and brought in the bag of groceries Dean had dropped. “Damn it.” He wasn’t sure what he was cursing. He looked around the room and realized that they would only follow him. He searched through Dean’s pockets until he found the car keys. 

Dean’s face was peaceful as Sam bent to kiss him, lightly, their lips barely touching. He felt his brother inside him and for a moment clung to him…then carefully, deliberately separating himself, building a wall between them. “I gave you everything Dean…but it was wrong. This is mine. Alone. Hate me for it if you want.”

Sam squared his shoulders and left the room, pausing to make sure the door was locked and sealing it, his fingers tracing an invisible sigil into the wood. It would take Dean awhile to break through that…if he even figured out what it was. Sam paused as the glow of the mark faded, realizing he wasn’t sure where he’d learned that…pretty sure he never had. The pain in his head ratcheted up a notch and he backed away from the door, stumbling around the building to the Impala. 

 

Dean groaned with the effort of opening his eyes. His body felt as though something had tried to pull him apart. His head was filled with static and pain and… _Sam_ …Sam was gone. The emptiness told him more than the fullness…his head was filled with his own sluggish thoughts, his own pain.

He sat up, his eyes sweeping the room. Sam’s stuff was gone. “Damn!” He pulled himself up, on to his feet, staggering a little as he moved toward the bed. “Dad! Dad, wake up.” He touched John, even as the bigger man rolled over and groaned.

“What happened?”

“Sam’s gone.” _Gone…Sam’s gone. Fuck. Fuck._

“What?” John sat up, holding his head. “Where?”

Dean shook his head, and sank onto the bed. “Gone.” His hand went to his pocket. “Damn him, he took the car.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean had a flash of memory, an image…an echo of a dream. “He’s gone to face it…alone.”

John was on his feet. “We have to go after him.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we do. But first, we have to get through the door.” He looked at the door, picking out the sense of Sam’s hands tracing a symbol. “He’s sealed us in…and everything else out.”

John ran a hand over the door, feeling for what Dean obviously saw. “I don’t sense it.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah…Sammy’s been holding back on us, Dad. He’s sealed us in pretty good.” He sighed. There was more…something…but when he chased it all he found was the wall between him and his brother. _Sam._

 

 _Sam_.

Sam clenched his jaw, pushed on the accelerator and ignored the tiny touch of his brother’s thought, locking it out. The speedometer was topped out, the Impala shook around him. It smelled like Dean…and blood. Sam shook his head and blocked it out. 

_I don’t need you to protect me, Sammy._

Sam pushed harder at the wall. _Yes, Dean. You do. You just don’t know how much._

 

“California.” Dean said suddenly, sitting up in the passenger seat of the car they stole to follow Sam. His eyes were dry as he rubbed them and looked aside at his father. 

“What?” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Sam is headed for California.”

John’s eyes danced across the road in front of them and back at Dean. “I don’t like it.”

“No.” Dean didn’t like it either. He didn’t like any of it, least of all that his brother had essentially cold-cocked them both via this connection and run away because of some misguided desire to protect them…or, rather because it was Sam himself that Sam was trying to protect them from, or because Sam didn’t even realize that.

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. The wall Sam had thrown up between them made it hard to reach him consciously…but did nothing to keep Dean from reading Sam’s subconscious. In fact, it almost made it…easier. Dean couldn’t explain it, wasn’t comfortable with it. _Everything._ Dean was starting to get a handle on what that actually meant. “Faster, Dad. Faster.”

 

Sam sat staring at the building, remembering the flames, the pain…the fury as Dean dragged him out of it two years before. Two years. It was empty. He could tell that without even getting out of the car. The school year wasn’t quite over, but the whole block of student housing seemed empty. There was movement at the bedroom window…a face. Jess.

Sam got out of the car and crossed the street. The air was still, the street quiet. Not like when he had last been here. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Sam climbed the stairs slowly, reaching for the door. It came open easily, letting him into a living room devoid of furniture. Scattered papers on the floor attested to life that had once occupied the room, abandoned. If he closed his eyes he could see Dean there, making eyes at Jess, smirking, dragging Sam back into the dark.

With a deep breath he moved into the kitchen. It too was empty, but he could almost smell the cookies Jess had left for him. He closed his eyes, following the same trail he had that night…into the bedroom…the sound of the shower soothing. 

A dirty mattress lay on the floor, a broken and lumpy remnant of someone’s college life. Sam sank onto it. He’d driven without stopping. Sleep pulled at him. He fell back, his eyes moving to the ceiling where he’d last seen Jess. The ceiling was dark, empty. He closed his eyes. “Jess,” he whispered as he let sleep pull him down. “I’m here.”

 

John pulled off the road when his eyes burned and his stomach growled. “Wake up.” He touched Dean’s arm. “Wipe down the car. We need to get a new one.”

Dean stretched, eyeing the bright neon lights around them. “Vegas?”

John smiled. “What place better to lose a stolen car and find a new one?”

Dean nodded. “Something fast.”

“I’ll look around.” 

Dean pulled their things out of the trunk of the stolen Toyota and dug a rag out his bag. At one time it had been a t-shirt. Sam’s t-shirt. _Sam_. No. Dean forced himself to blank out his mind and concentrate on his task. Wipe the car clean. Inside and out. 

Two hours and a couple of lousy burgers later, Dean steered a beat up Mark IV onto the 95 north while his father dozed next to him. Sam was already in California, and they were going to run into interference soon. Dean didn’t think about how or why he knew that, just adjusted the gun under his right thigh and pressed harder on the accelerator. 

 

Sam opened his eyes sleepily, not sure if he was even awake, or just dreaming. Jess smiled at him…her body laying in a mirror image of his own, her hair spread out on the mattress behind her. “Sam.”

He took a slow breath and felt the tears building. “I’m here, Jess.” He blinked, half expecting her to disappear. “Am I dreaming?”

She shook her head. “No Sam. Not dreaming.”

No, he was going crazy. He should never have come here, should never have left Dean and their father. “What then?” 

“Its coming for you.”

“You said that before.” Something nagged him, a feeling…

“You need to be ready.”

He looked into her eyes, looking for reassurance. “I miss you so much, Jess.”

“I know.” Her hand was on his cheek, hot, solid…He closed his eyes and savored the touch. “I’ve watched and waited for you. I was here last year when you came…but you didn’t see me.”

Memories of last year surfaced. He’d walked past this place then…that night…after the fight with his father. He hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t bear to…”He hurt you.”

Sam flinched. “Garrett,” he murmured.

“No Sam.” He opened his eyes. She seemed to have tears in her eyes. “Not him. Your father. He always hurts you.”

Sam felt a stab in his stomach. “No, Jess…its…he doesn’t mean to. Its comp—“

“Complicated? I saw Sam. I saw it all.” Her hand moved over his face, tender but still hot. “Every time the subject came up…I saw.” She stroked over his eyes and he felt that old familiar pain wash over him.

“He’s changed.” Sam breathed it. He rolled onto his back, his eyes going to the ceiling. Her hand slipped from his face down to his chest. In his mind he saw his father like he’d been in Kansas…proud, loving.

“And you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We’ve all changed Jess.”

“No Sam. Not all of you.”

She rolled onto her back too, her hand sliding down to entwine in his. Sam knew what she meant, but wasn’t ready yet. He sighed. “He still controls you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” It came out cold, hard and he hated himself for it. “No one controls me Jess, least of all Dean.”

He didn’t see her smile, dark and dangerous. “No? You left me on your own then?”

Sam’s breath caught in his chest. “God, Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I never…I loved you.”

“But you love him more.”

“No.” He sat up and pulled his hand free. “Its not…its…” How could he begin to define it? 

“Complicated?” Her hand was on his back now. Her fingers traced his spine. 

“I’d be dead now if it weren’t for him.”

“We’d be together.” She said it softly, and he twitched. 

“He’s given me everything.” 

“No Sam. You’ve done that…you’ve given him everything…you always have…anything for him…your time, your dreams, me…your life…your mind…your…body.” Her hand slid around him, slipping between his legs. 

“Jess…no…stop…”

He felt himself falling, back to the dirty mattress. Her hand stroked him and he tried to jerk away. “He gave you his body…his skin…” She leaned over him, her lips hovering near his. “He let you mark him…but that mark…” her hand closed over the brand on his thigh. “It didn’t mark him as yours Sam…it was him…taking control…branding over Garrett’s claim with his own.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “No. It was my idea.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice was deeper, husky and Sam started as she kissed him, gasping as it burned, her tongue seeking out his. “Maybe I just let you think that.” 

Sam’s eyes flew open. Instead of Jessica, Dean’s face smirked down at him, his eyes dark with hatred. “Dean?” _Dean_.

 

Dean cussed as he wrenched the car around a curve, narrowly missing the trap set up for them. It was the third one in an hour. They were near Turlock, California. The truck stop had been a nightmare, dodging black eyed lackeys and fighting their way back to the car. He’d plowed down a pregnant woman to get way and tried to tell himself she was already dead before she’d stepped in front of them.

“Careful, there’s more.” John said, pumping the shotgun as he prepared to lean out the window.

“See them. Hold on.”

Dean spun them around in a parking lot and sped them back out onto the road, leaving the two cars behind as he literally stood on the gas. “This is ridiculous.”

“We need to find a way to hide ourselves.”

Dean shook his head. “Can’t hide and move. We have to reach Sam.”

“Maybe we can.”

Dean looked aside at his father. “You gotta plan?”

“Keep driving.” John reached into the backseat for his journal. “Find us some sacred ground, a cemetery or church. I might have a trick or two that will work.”

Dean nodded and concentrated on the task of getting them to safety without killing anyone else. _Dean._

He stiffened. _Sammy?_ It had been the first touch in more than 30 hours. He was scared. “Fuck.” Dean spotted the Catholic Church and screeched to a halt, turning the car into its parking lot and pulling as close to the church building as he could get. He closed his eyes and reached out, but Sam was gone again, back behind the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel and got out of the car, leaving his father to do whatever magic he had in mind, while he filled flasks with holy water inside.


	4. Chapter 4

John Winchester was not a religious man, despite everything he had seen and done in his life. Still there were things he believed. He sat in the third pew from the door of the small church, his hands folded, his forehead against them. He believed that demons walked among people, every day. He’d seen enough to know that they weren’t all the same.

The ones they’d encountered today were different, slipping from body to body, working to keep them from Sam. Dean slipped into the seat beside him. “Done.”

John nodded. The car had been marked on both bumpers with symbols that should help hide them, and Dean had just finished wiping it down with holy water, which should help repel anything that attacked them.

“Tell me again.”

Dean bowed his head. “I don’t have it all, Dad. Just…It manipulated him, convinced him that…hell, it tried to convince him we didn’t need him…then that he was killing us.” Dean closed his eyes. It was disjointed, part memory…part…vision…part…He sighed. “He’s…blocking me.” 

“How? How did it reach him?”

“Jess.” Dean could see the echo of the dream, Jessica’s face. But he’d seen her eyes. He’d seen through her.

“And you have a plan?”

Dean shook his head and sat back. “It starts with getting out of here and getting to Palo Alto.”

“Then?”

“Then…then we beat this demon at his own game.”

“How?” John looked at his son and sighed. “Damn it Dean, we’ve been hunting this thing forever. We’ve never even gotten close.”

Dean stood, taking his father’s hand and pulling him up too. _Like this. As a family. It wants Sammy._

The corner of John’s mouth twitched as Dean’s intention leaked across the connection. _But Winchesters are a package deal. You never get just one._ He and Dean had never had this without Sam present. Dean nodded.

“Damn straight.”

 

“Dean?”

“What’s wrong, baby brother? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Dean’s face rubbed across Sam’s, his voice whispering over his skin. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” He kissed Sam, all hard lips and teeth.

Sam pushed, but Dean didn’t budge. “No. You…can’t be…Dean.”

“No?” His hand moved between them, into Sam’s pants to stroke his cock. “Do you get hard for every ghost, Sammy?”

Sam groaned. “Not a ghost…Dean’s not dead.”

Not-Dean chuckled. “You left me. How would you know if I’m dead or alive?”

“I’d know.” Sam moaned as Dean’s _not Dean_ fingers, moved over the skin of his cock, rubbing the slit and under the head the way Sam liked…tiny touches that made Sam arch underneath him.

“Well, your body seems to think it’s me.” Dean _not Dean_ whispered in Sam’s ear. “We are pair of sick fucks, aren’t we baby brother?”

Sam tried again to push his way free as Dean _not Dean_ ripped open his shirt. “I’d almost think you were trying to get away from me, Sammy.” He spared a hand to capture Sam’s wrists, pinning them above his head.

Instantly, Sam was swallowed in panic. “No….No….” Dean pulled up from the licking of Sam’s chest and laughed.

“What’s wrong baby brother?”

“Dean…stop…let…let me go…”

“I thought I wasn’t really Dean.”

Sam felt ropes wrapping around his wrists. He couldn’t breathe. “No.”

Lips closed over his nipple…then Dean was kissing him, his tongue pushing into his mouth roughly. “There, there, baby…I’ve got you,” he whispered into Sam’s mouth. 

Sam’s face burned with tears. _Dean…oh, god Dean._

 

Dean closed his eyes as his father maneuvered them through traffic. It wasn’t often they traveled the big highways…too many police, too many people. His breathing quickened. Sam was frightened again…more than before…he was falling…his strength failing. Dean shuddered and drew his knees up to his chest. 

“Faster.” _Faster…hurry…hurry…Dad…hurry._

It hurt…the distance, the lack of _Sam_ in the space beside him…inside him…like coming down off a drug…He felt his father there…where Sam should be…but it wasn’t the same. It was more work, connecting…there was so much to hide…so much that John couldn’t know…wouldn’t want to know.

Dean spared a glance at his father. He was concentrating on the road, on keeping them moving and alive. He was going to need more from him. He was going to need…

“Dad, we need to talk.”

John looked at him, a quick glance before his eyes were back in front of them, his hands steering them around a semi truck. “What is it?”

Dean shifted, stretched across the connection for the warmth and steady reserve. “This is going to get ugly…and I don’t mean just the fight.”

John’s jaw twitched. _I’m going to be there for you, Dean._

“I know that. I’m not worried about that.” Dean blew out and grabbed the dashboard as they changed lanes yet again. “I’m not Sam, Dad.”

John smiled a little. “You sound like him. He keeps telling me he isn’t you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t have his control.” This wasn’t going very well. 

“You going somewhere with this?”

“Yeah, actually, I am.” Dean licked his lips and closed his eyes. “I’m just going to say it. There’s stuff you don’t know…stuff between me and Sam…stuff…” He put his feet down and shifted. “And…when things get bad, you might…see them. You…” Dean stopped…looked away. 

_Show me now._

“No.” Dean shook his head. How could he? Just throw it out there? Hey Dad, I’m fucking Sam. “No. We need to concentrate on getting to Sam.” _We’ll just argue. Don’t want to argue. Just need to know you’ll have my back, no matter what you see._

“Is this about Garrett?”

“Dad! Dean grabbed his arm as the two semis on either side of them began moving in against them. John stepped on the accelerator and the car lurched forward, narrowly escaping as the two trucks slammed into one another. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yes,” John said, “I’m sure we will.”

 

Sam was spinning, falling. Everything had changed…or maybe he had just figured that out…and nothing had been right for so long… “Dean, please…stop…”

He pulled against the ropes, against the feeling of being trapped, restrained. “No…please…”

Dean’s hand _no, not Dean_ stroked his face. “I’m here, Sammy…right here…”

Sam closed his eyes and tried to disconnect from the fear. “You…you aren’t my brother.”

“I’m hurt.” Dean straddled Sam’s body, his rough hands dragging over the exposed skin of Sam’s chest. 

“Dean wouldn’t do this.” Sam pulled on the ropes again, pushing away the memories the sensation brought. “Dean wouldn’t tie me—“

The smile was wicked. “Wouldn’t I though?” He leaned down, rubbing his stubbled chin over Sam’s. “Didn’t I ever tell you how hot you looked all tied up?”

Sam’s breathing was erratic. He moved his head away from Dean’s _not Dean_ , but those lips only slid over his jaw, down to his neck. “I got hard watching you…all submissive and waiting for him to come back…I wanted you.”

“No.” Sam tossed, nearly upsetting the thing on top of him that was and wasn’t his brother. He didn’t understand what was happening.

It laughed, the thing with Dean’s face and punched Sam hard across the jaw. Sam stopped struggling and it fell on top of him again, wiggling so Sam could feel its erection against his hip. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind breaking you myself. You’re so pretty.” His thumb rubbed over the spot he’d hit, pressing into the redness already starting there. “Especially when your skin goes all purple.”

“Stop…please…just…get it over with.”

“Get what over with, baby? I’m just getting started.”

Sam looked up at him as if finally realizing something. “You aren’t going to kill me.”

Dean _not Dean_ smiled that trademark smile, the one that made girls swoon and guys swallow just about anything. “Why would I kill you Sammy? What good would you be to me dead?”

 

“There, take that one.”

“You sure Dean?”

“I’ve been here enough. I’m sure. Take the exit.”

John slammed on the brakes, wrenched the wheel and crossed three lines of traffic to pull off the freeway five exits before the one labeled for Stanford. “Next right.”

Dean pointed unnecessarily and returned to loading the guns that littered his lap and the floor under him. Every weapon he could get his hands on. Every bullet he could find or steal. All blessed with holy water. All carved with symbols. All of them ready to blaze a trail through demon-possessed bodies. “Left,” he said without looking up. He didn’t need to see. He knew where they were. “Left.”

He slammed the clip in and tucked the gun into the bag on the seat between him and his father. “These are for you. Right.”

Dean twitched. His jaw clenched and unclenched and his leg bounced. He was nervous. If he let himself admit it he was scared, terrified. He could feel Sam, leaking out around the wall and now it was Dean holding that wall together. Because Dean knew Sam wasn’t alone on the other side. It was there. And it couldn’t know. 

And that meant Dean was leaving Sam alone. Alone with the thing that had killed their mother. Had killed Jessica…and who knows how many others. The thing that wanted Sam more than anything. His Sammy.

“Left, Dad.”

“I know.” John turned them into the campus, down the tree lined lanes of student housing and frat houses.

“They’re gonna be kids, Dad.” Dean said quietly, returning to his guns, shoving them into the bag. “The bastards got his army dressed up in kids.”

John nodded, one hand adjusting the bag between them. “You going to tell me the plan?”

Dean unclenched his jaw. “We kill them. All of them. As many as we can…until we run out of ammo.”

“And then?”

_Then we get our boy back and teach that son of a bitch a lesson._

John stopped the car behind the Impala. They both looked up at the house. It was dark. Quiet. Dean was the first one out, gun in hand. He moved to the Impala. Sam’s duffle was on the back seat. There was a note on the passenger seat. Dean’s eyes glanced over it, then looked away. It wasn’t anything he wanted to read. Sam wasn’t allowed to make that choice for them. He wasn’t allowed to say goodbye again. Not again. Not after…everything. 

They crossed the street and took the stairs two at a time. The door was locked. Dean moved to the window. Movement inside told him they weren’t alone. “Shit. They know we’re coming.”

Dean knocked the window in with the butt of his gun and squeezed off a few shots. John kicked the door in and started firing. Together they moved in to the house. Twelve year old boys, twins dressed in matching suits that once had been expensive, screamed as they charged them. Dean had known they would be kids…but he hesitated. Beside him, John didn’t, taking them both with a shot to the forehead.

Dean shook it off and headed deeper into the house. Two girls, barely 8, their dresses torn and muddy. Dean closed his eyes and fired. Their screams tore into him. Behind him he heard his father’s gun repeatedly. He ducked a flying piece of broken glass and rolled into the bed room. 

A dirty mattress and a pile of bloody clothes were the only things in the room. No demons. No Sam. “Fuck!” He spun around, and sprawled to the ground as a pre-pubescent nerd clocked him between the eyes. He brought his gun up and shot twice into the pocket protector. The body fell and the demon spewed out into the air. Suddenly the air was on fire, the demon squealing. 

Dean crawled away, until he was on the mattress. He put his hand down on something hard, closed over the denim. Sam. The fire raged, until the blackness was gone. Dean swallowed as the fire condensed and moved toward him. “Dad!” Gunfire echoed back to him. Dean raised the gun, but hesitated. Slowly a form moved out of the fire. He’d seen the same thing before…when his mother…when she had saved Sam from the spirit that had squatted in their old house.

Blond hair and a long white nightgown…a face he only saw once before. “Jessica.” He breathed it, the gun still held between them.

“He isn’t here.”

“I can see that.”

“I didn’t bring him here.”

“I know.” Slowly he lowered the gun.

“It was here. I tried to reach him. It’s stronger.”

Dean’s stomach twisted. “I…know…”

She came closer. “I love him.” Something in her voice made Dean look up. “He loves you.”

“Are we going to have a problem?” Dean’s gun hand twitched.

She smiled. “He needs you Dean.” 

“Dean!”

“Bedroom Dad.”

“I can’t help you save him.” The flames licked at her hair and clothes as she backed off a step. “But I can clear the house for you.”

“Where is he?”

Her eyes were the last that was left of her as the flames engulfed her. They met Dean’s. “You know where.” Dean’s hand finally recognized the shape under it. The keys, in Sam’s pocket. 

John burst into the room and Dean nodded as Jessica’s flaming form slammed into the ceiling and the walls started to burn. “Let’s go.” Dean grabbed his father’s arm and dashed out, flying through burning bodies and inhuman screams. The doors and windows imploded as they escaped, stumbling down the stairs and rolling into the street.

“Dean?”

“I know where they are.”

He climbed to his feet. “But he knows we’re coming. He’s gonna throw everything at us.” He tucked his gun into the back of his jeans and helped John up, sweeping his eyes over him. _You’re hurt._

John shook his head. “Its nothing. I’m fine.”

Dean nodded and started for the car. “We need a diversion.”

“We’ll split up. You take the Impala. Divide the forces.”

_That’s insane. We’re stronger together. Sam needs us together._

John put his hands on his hips. _We will be together Dean. Like this._

Dean shook his head. _It’s too hard. Over distance._

He took his father’s hand. He was right, but Dean wasn’t ready. The sharing between him and Sam, Sam had given him so much and he still didn’t understand it. Slowly, Dean took his father’s hand and put it on his thigh, over the branded W John himself had pressed into his flesh. _If we’re going to do this Dad, you have to trust me._

Just as slowly, Dean put his hand on John’s thigh, over his brand. Sam and Dean had done it together, one mind, one body, their thoughts so conjoined that even now Dean can’t separate them as he shifts his consciousness to brush against his fathers. _You have to let go, like I did for Sam._

He could feel his father’s resistance. John Winchester didn’t relinquish control. It was dangerous. It would get them killed. Dean held himself still and waited. John’s touch was tentative. _Show me._

Dean opened a little more, sharing his fear, his determination…drawing John past words and conscious thought. John stuttered, his control releasing and seizing up several times. Dean stroked him with encouragement. _Dean…Dean….oh god…Dean…_

Dean swallowed. He felt their bodies sinking to the ground between the cars and held his father’s hand on his thigh, held them together. _Sam. Hold tight._

_Can’t. Can’t. Dean…._

Sam’s desperation lanced through him. _Sam._ John’s barriers melted and Dean gasped as his thoughts and emotions and that…essence flooded into him. Memories first, jumbled up images of Mary and the boys as children echoing with Dean’s and Sam’s and spinning them through a recap of every moment they’d been together, the three of them living, laughing, fighting. A strange clarity, like each memory was now 3-D…and Dean carefully held those memories to the times when all three of them were together, strengthening the connection. 

Slowly Dean opened his eyes. They were coming for them. _We need to move. Sam…just hold on._

John opened his eyes and nodded. Together they stood. Children and teenagers were visible, moving toward them like some bad zombie movie extras. _Sam?_ The wall was still there, but he could sense him, weak, slipping away.

“Damn.”

 _I’ll be the distraction Dean. You go get Sam._ John was already in the Mark IV, tossing Dean’s bag of weapons at him. Dean nodded and climbed into the Impala. His father pulled out onto the street, mowing through the slow moving army. Dean glanced aside at the white paper on the black seat. He’d always been so ready to sacrifice himself, and he never once believed that just maybe it wasn’t about that at all.

Dean dropped his bag over the note and brought the car to life. Sammy never did realize on a conscious level just what it was that demon wanted. Dean did though. And if he wanted it, Dean was going to give it to him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Sam, wake up!”

Dean’s voice was urgent, pulling Sam from some tormented nightmare to something resembling awake. “Dean?” It was dark. Sam was disoriented, confused. “Dean?”

His hands were bound, over his head. He was on a cold floor. His face hurt, like a sunburn. Dean was beside him, squatting there, waiting. “Dean?” Sam struggled to sit up and Dean smiled.

“There you are. I thought maybe I’d pushed a little too hard.”

Sam’s eyes widened as memory flooded back in. He rolled away and struggled against the ropes. His brother’s face smirked at him as he followed. “Are you ready for more, Sammy?”

Sam swallowed and fought the rising surge of panic. “Don’t…touch me.” Sam kicked out at this thing who looked like his brother, but it only laughed with Dean’s laugh.

“But you liked it, baby. I know you did.” 

Dean’s hand was on his chest now and Sam closed his eyes. “No. No.” It had stroked him to climax, using his body’s confusion against him and when he had come, it had fucked him and Sam had lost himself in a swirl of memory and fear and hatred until he’d finally fallen into the dark.

Dean, _no, not Dean_ , straddled his body, rubbing his skin, before leaning in to kiss and nip and Sam’s lips. “Do you know why I never let you have all of me, Sammy? Do you know why I take everything you give me and give you nothing back?”

No. Sam knew it wasn’t true…Dean gave him plenty…Sam probably never could give enough back. “Its jealousy…that’s why I fuck you. That’s why I fuck with you. You came along and everything changed, Sammy…everything was perfect before you came along…”

“No.” Sam couldn’t move, only deny this thing the satisfaction of rising to his bait. He hadn’t figured it out yet, what it wanted…why it was doing this.

Dean’s face slid against his, his lips moving to Sam’s ear. “You’re hard again Sammy…does your Daddy know?”

There was a change in the voice, but Sam just screwed his eyes shut tighter. “I’m disappointed in you Sam.” It was his father’s voice. Sam swallowed hard. _No…not that._. A hand closed around his cock…his father’s hand. Sam shuddered.

“Look at me.”

Involuntarily, Sam’s eyes opened. His father’s face was angry, dark and only inches from his. “Did you think you could hide it from me Sam?” Disgust contorted his features and Sam’s face burned, his eyes tearing up as he shook his head. 

“You aren’t him. You aren’t him.”

John’s large hand came down and slapped him. Sam’s head snapped to the side, his head ringing. “No? You think I’m not?” He brushed his hands down Sam’s arms, tracing the prominent veins. “Look me in the face and say that Sam.” He grabbed Sam’s chin and pulled his face up, holding it as he stared into him. “You disgust me. I saw you…you know, I saw. The way you called out your brother’s name when that bastard fucked you. I heard you.”

Sam squirmed. “No…Dad…please…”

“You perverted your brother, didn’t you? Did you fuck him first? Or did you let him think it was him?” He slapped Sam again. “You did it for Garrett didn’t you…fucked your brother, with Garrett in your ass.”

Sam lay still beneath him, the fight nearly gone. He wilted under his father’s eyes, even knowing it wasn’t really John Winchester. His disappointment and anger burned into Sam’s skin, feeding on every insecurity and fear Sam had ever had. 

“Of course you did.” The voice was in his ear again…in his head. Sam started to shake.

_No, no, no….no…_

“Hello Sam.”

Sam’s screams echoed around them, and Garrett laughed a counterpoint to them.

 

John drove his stolen vehicle deeper into the campus, swerving to cover as much ground and hit as many of the oncoming demons as he could. Dean had warned him that the demon was using kids, but he hadn’t expected this many. They were everywhere, from 5 year olds in pajamas to teenagers with blades, all intent on one thing, keeping them from getting to Sam.

He could _feel_ Dean as he made more of a straight line toward the weak, but still beating beacon of Sam’s heart. His left shoulder hurt from where he’d fallen back at the house under the onslaught of three children with black eyes. His right thigh had stopped bleeding, the cut shallow but painful.

At one time in his life, nothing had been more important than killing the demon that had taken Mary. Now, they were close to doing just that, but all John could think about was finding Sam…finding him and keeping him safe…and kicking his ass for running off like that.

 

Dean’s heart raced as Sam’s distress ratcheted up a notch. He was having a hard time holding on to everything and his control on the wall was wavering. Soon he’d have to abandon it all together and hope he could still function…hope it didn’t give the demon more control.

He slammed on the brakes as three teenagers in cheerleader uniforms stepped in front of him. Their black eyes blinked at him as he revved the engine. “That’s just creepy,” he muttered, raising a gun. The girl in the middle smiled at him. Dean’s mouth twitch and he pulled the trigger, blowing out the windshield. His next shot took the middle girl in the forehead and her mouth opened in a surprised “O”.

“Not your average gun, sweetie.” He squeezed off two more rounds, and the other two fell beside her. Shaking his head, Dean backed the car up and took a different street. He had no delusions that his blessed weaponry would do more than wound an upper level demon, but these lackeys seemed to be affectively handled with them, which meant he should be able to get in to the big boys…but that’s where the fight would really start…where he was going to have to be everything he wasn’t…everything he never had been…and more.

 

“Do you know where you are Sam?” the voice asked. Sam was hyperventilating, his breath hissing in and out of his mouth through clenched teeth. Garrett’s smile was pleased. “I chose this place because it’s special. We have history here.”

 _Dean…I need you Dean_ Sam couldn’t feel his brother. He’d dreamed they were coming…but he was alone. 

That hand was on him again, claiming him. “I brought you here Sam. This is where I marked you…where I made you mine.”

Sam shook, his body quivering. “No.” he whispered it fiercely. That big hand fell on his thigh, tracing the W.

“You covered it…but I’m still under here, aren’t I…always will be…burned into your flesh.”

“You’re dead.” Sam dared a glance up, but looked away when Garrett squatted beside him.

“Am I?” His big hand was gentle as it brushed Sam’s hair from his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“Dad killed you.”

“Did he?” Garrett leaned in close. “How would you know, Sam? You were unconscious. You left the clean up to your father…even after everything I did to you, you couldn’t kill me. Do you know why?”

Sam’s face contorted as Garrett’s smiled at him. “Because you know I own you…you know how much I want to take care of you and keep you…you want that, don’t you Sam?”

Garrett’s hands petted him, over the expanse of his chest, down his thigh. _No…no…no…Dean…Dad…_

“Do you have any idea how many demons stand between them and us?” Garrett stood, looking down at Sam with disdain. “They’ll be dead before they can even get out of their cars.”

Garrett paced away as Sam drifted in the clouds of confusion. This thing wasn’t Garrett any more than he was Dean or John or Jess…his lies dripped with truth…cut into the tender flesh of Sam’s insecurities and doubts, just as easily as Garrett had his skin.

The room was dark, dirty…but he recognized it. The pedestal that had been his prison lay broken a few feet away. The floor was still stained with his blood. Idly he realized he was laying roughly in the same space he had when Garrett had first raped him. Unconsciously, he crawled closer to the wall, drawing his legs up closer to his body.

Sam started when he saw her, the little girl from his vision. Dark blond hair dusted her petite shoulders, her skin pale like porcelain. She cocked her head as she regarded him, her eyes a strange gold. The air in the room was cold and he could feel the hair on his skin stand up.

Time seemed to stop as she held his gaze, holding him frozen. Her lips never moved, but voices filtered through his daze. “He is stronger than I thought…still.”

“I will get you what you want.”

Her head quirked and it seemed that she was somehow looking at the creature that looked like Garrett and at Sam at the same time. “I am beginning to have my doubts.”

“If I push him too fast, he could destroy himself…and that would do you no good.”

“Perhaps that is inevitable.” She came closer without seeming to move and squatted beside Sam. “It would bring me pleasure…to watch him die, if he isn’t going to break.”

“He’ll break.” Garrett’s body squatted opposite the girl. “You just keep the other two off of me while I work.”

Her smile was eerie. “Don’t worry about them. I’m going to enjoy watching them bleed.” Her tiny hand moved toward Sam’s chest. “Right now, I want to hear him scream.” Her hand connected with the skin just under Sam’s heart and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Sam screamed and writhed under her until she stood, letting him go. His vision swam and he dove toward the darkness, seeking refuge in unconsciousness, even if he knew it wouldn’t last long.

 

Dean stopped the Impala a block and a half from the abandoned building where he had found Sam after 6 days of searching. The area around the building was filled with children and animals and he couldn’t guess what else. He didn’t even have time to get out of the car before he was firing at the nearest of the oncoming demons, tossing his bag onto his back and breaking into a dead run.

He didn’t even bother looking or aiming, just kept his hands moving, guns firing from each hand as he ran. “So much for a surprise attack. Guess I’ll have to settle for a dramatic entrance.” Dean muttered as he dropped the empty guns and reached in his bag for more. He ducked the black dog that flew at him, not sparing time to wonder if it was some pet gone Cujo or an actual Black Dog as he rolled into the legs of three high school age girls in nightgowns. “When sleepovers go bad,” he thought to himself, throwing out punches to take them down. 

He was beginning to see the differences in the demons around him. Some had taken over living children. Some had re-animated dead ones. The dead ones were easier. They were just demons in meat suits. The others…there were still innocent kids in there. Dean pulled free of two boys and got moving again. _Could use that distraction about now, Dad_

Dean heard the engine whining, sounding like it wouldn’t last much longer. _Already on it, Son._ The Mark IV came flying at them, Dean charging out of its way at full steam while John plowed into those nearest his son. Dean didn’t look back as he ran for the building, shooting at everything that moved between him and Sam.

He was already latched on to his father more strongly than the day to day connection he and Sam shared. _It’s going to get rough._

He felt John’s grimace as he wrenched the car around. _Stay in the car as long as you can. It will give you some protection._

_Get your brother. Take what you need. Don’t worry about me._

_Yes, sir._

Dean leapt over the dog he dropped with a shot to the head, and rolled into the dark, and reasonably more quiet, lobby of the abandoned building.

 

_“Come on Sammy, wake up.”_

_Sam groaned and curled onto his side. Dean’s body was warm as it curled up behind him, his arm slipping around Sam to hold him closer. “Open your eyes, I have a present for you.”_

_Sam shifted uncomfortably, his body protesting. “Dean? What’s going on?”_

_Dean tickled him until he opened his eyes. “What time is it?”_

_“Still dark.”_

_“Dude, let me sleep.”_

_“Come on Sam, its important.”_

_“What, Dean? What’s so important you had to wake me up at this hour?”_

_Dean moved so that he was straddled on top of his brother with a floppy grin that made Sam think he had lost his mind. “This.” His kiss was tender, his tongue tasting of coffee and pancake syrup._

_Sam was breathless. “What is this?” he whispered._

_Dean’s mouth hovered over Sam’s. “Everything,” he whispered onto Sam’s tongue before he kissed him again. “Everything Sammy.”_

 

“Do you know what day it is, Sam?” Garrett dragged his nails over Sam’s skin to draw him back to consciousness. His smile was sickening and Sam’s confusion seemed to amuse him. “One year ago today I took you. I brought you here.” His hand closed over Sam’s cock. “I fucked you. I made you mine.”

Sam’s eyes rolled away from Garrett’s…focused on the broken pedestal. This wasn’t Garrett. No, Garrett wouldn’t have stood for the broken plaster on his floor…or the dirt scattered around them. “More than that, Sam. Today is the anniversary of the day your mother died. Did you know that?”

Sam’s eyes snapped back. Garrett’s hand moved over his skin and as it did, old wounds opened, the marks of his riding crop and whip cracking open and bleeding. Sam didn’t scream. There wasn’t any scream left in him. He hurt…his whole body, his soul…more pain simply fell in as part of the cacophony that dulled him into a stupor. Garrett turned away and when he turned back, he had become John again. “She died because of you. It came for you…it wanted you…I should have let it have you then.”

Sam blinked up at his father’s face, but the anger and disappointment he saw there was completely disparate to the feeling of love and pride he was getting…that…his father was sending. Sam’s eyes closed and his head turned away, trying to reach out for it, to cling to the warmth. The feeling of his father wrapped around him, but before Sam could do anything to respond, there was pain, sharp pain in his leg. Sam opened his eyes, disoriented and unsure of himself. His father’s hands were on his shoulders, shaking him…but… “Not him.”

“No, I’m really not.”

It stood, and somehow Sam followed, dragged by some invisible hand to his feet and pinned to the wall. “I’m getting tired of this.”

Sam blinked slowly, his mind moving sluggishly as he watched his father become Dean again. “Sammy, I want to help you. You can’t possibly hold out much longer. Its going to kill you.”

The door was open beyond it, and Sam could see her watching… **it** watching, her gold eyes locked on his green ones. In them he could finally see what it was it wanted. “If you give it up freely, we will spare their lives.” Dean’s voice said, turning from the girl to Sam. 

“It can all be over, baby. Nothing will ever hurt you again.” Dean’s hand was gentle on his face, wiping away tears Sam wasn’t even aware he was crying.

“Dean…it hurts…”

“I know, baby. I know…but we can end it. Make it stop.”

“So tired.” Sam’s head slumped forward, pressing into the hand at his cheek.

 

Dean dropped his bag, empty and useless and bolted down the hall he knew would take him to his brother. Behind him, his father drove the Mark IV into the building, showering Dean with shattered glass and blood. He _pushed_ Dean forward and climbed out of the car. Gunfire spurred him on, like a drum beat he could follow all the way to…Dean screeched to a stop as he came face to face with the little girl, her yellow eyes betraying her less than girl-like reality.

Beyond her the door opened on _that_ room and Sam pressed against the wall, a dark figure between them. “Well, well…this is unexpected,” the girl said, her head turning toward Dean. He flew back a few steps, then dug his feet in. The pressure built and the girl’s look changed from one of disinterest to one of irritation. “Dean Winchester.”

Dean smiled. “The one and only.”

“What do you think you’re going to accomplish here?” She glided toward him and Dean forced himself a step closer.

“You know…the usual Winchester tricks. Kill the demon, rescue the brother. Go home happy.”

She smiled. “You are unarmed. Your brother is seconds from giving himself over to me. You are not strong enough to deal with me.”

She pushed harder and he was forced to take a step back. “Normally, I’d have to agree with you. But not today.” He arched an eyebrow and pushed back against her.

Her eyebrow climbed in response. “I may have underestimated you, Dean.”

“You have no idea, bitch.”


	6. Chapter 6

It hurt. Sam’s head was reeling…but something new…something… _Everything_

“Dean…”

“Sammy, baby…you can do this…we can leave here together.” Dean’s hand stroked his face, his chest. Sam opened his eyes, shaking his head.

“No…you aren’t…can’t be…” Sam was vaguely aware he was bleeding, his nose, his chest, his arms…He was bleeding, burned, dying…his body slowly giving out. “Dean.”

_Right here Sammy,…right here…_

Sam groaned as Dean’s lips closed on his, then started as Dean appeared over the shoulder of the thing kissing him. Dean and the demon. _Dean_.

 

Dean forced himself forward enough that he could see into the room again. The thing was kissing Sam, pressing him into the wall. Sam’s eyes were clouded, confused. _Look at me, Sam._

“You should pay more attention to me, Dean.” The demon’s eyes glittered in the little girl’s face and Dean felt his stomach churn. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have plenty of attention for you.” His eyes snapped to Its and he pushed back, her head snapping to the side as if he’d slapped her. _Come on Sammy, need you._

Somewhere behind him he was aware of his father fighting his way closer, and of the fact that he was hurt, badly. He needed him just a little closer…just a little before he dropped the last of the wall that kept him and Sam from melding into the one mind, one body they had become.

Dean smirked as the demon shoved, harder than before and he felt the wall against his back. _Everything._ Dean closed his eyes and reached inside himself for the memory, the moment when Sam had offered himself up into the protective space they built between them…all of his gifts, untapped, unknown but for the vaguest impressions. He pulled his father toward him, physically as well as mentally. _This is where it hurts_ …just as Sam had said to him once. 

John hesitated, but Dean took him at his earlier word and didn’t wait for him to give him what he needed, taking it, pulling John past the barriers, bolstering them against one another. John stumbled into the hallway, braced against the wall, his eyes glazed over, his knees buckling.

“Ah, yes. The scene wouldn’t be complete without the eldest Winchester.” The little girl’s face was eerie as she looked at John and he yelled out.

“You might want to pay attention, bitch.” Dean pulled himself off the wall and lurched forward, his fist connecting with her little face. His knuckles burned where they had connected and her face cracked just a little, tiny flames licking out of the wound.

“You would hit a little girl, Dean? I’m surprised at you.” She rolled her head and smiled. “My turn.”

Her fist connected with his stomach and sent him flying, crashing into John and sending them both into the wall.

 

Sam cried out as his brother flew out of his range of vision, a strangled sound of despair. In front of him Dean made comforting sounds and petted him. “Just let go Sammy, and it will all be over.”

The girl was in the room now, the door slammed closed behind her. Its anger crackled in the air, sending tiny fire devils dancing over the floor. “I’m done waiting for you Sam.” It said. “I’ve waited all this time, and now I’m done. You aren’t the only one like you. This one? She isn’t as powerful…but she has gifts…and she doesn’t hold back.”

Fingers burned into his skin. She came toward him, her hands raised. The smile on her face was out of place, too adult, too perverted. Sam screamed as the physical fingers met the ones already eating into him, pressing into the skin of his stomach. “If you won’t give it to me, I’ll take it…and then I’ll use it to tear your father and brother to tiny little pieces.”

Sam sagged against the wall…his limbs suddenly lighter, less constricted. The presence of _DeanJohn_ filled him and a smile tugged at his lips. _Everything, Dean._

“I don’t think so.” Sam’s hands grabbed her tiny wrists and pulled them away from his skin. His hands grew hot, but he persisted, holding her as the door crashed open. His eyes met Dean’s. _Everything._

Dean’s hand was up, gesturing for Sam to come to him. Sam smiled and let go of the little girl. For the moment he stood on his own, leaning into the familiar touch of family. The wall between them fell away as both he and Dean relinquished it and Sam melted into _DeanJohn…SamDeanJohn_.

Dean staggered under the combined essences of John and Sam filling him. He closed his eyes as they swirled around, thoughts, emotions, memories blurring, images coming and going so quickly Dean thought he might be sick. _You have to control it Dean._ Sam’s essence rubbed against him, something more intimate than any sex he’d ever had. His body swayed as three minds melted together, memories and thoughts tangled beyond any ability to understand…way beyond words or conscious thought…they just were one.

 _Now we finish it,_ and Dean didn’t know whose thought it was, only that he was in complete agreement. _Stronger together._

Dean’s eyes opened and he turned to face the two demons, one of which wore his face. “The problem with you people,” he said, “…people being a relative term, is that you keep thinking that Sam Winchester is something you can just take…that you can own.”

His boots echoed in the strange silence as he moved toward them. His voice sounded odd, not entirely his own, almost as if all three of them were speaking together. “But you can’t. You can’t have him.”

Dean punched his evil twin across the jaw, and reached for the girl, grabbing her by the shoulders. He head-butted her and dropped her and she hit the ground. “Thing is, he’s never been yours for the taking.” He followed as she crawled across the floor.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you die.” She climbed to her feet, her hands erupting in flames. “Like your mother…do you remember Dean?” Flames shot out from her and Dean dodged them until arms wrapped around him from behind. The next shot hit him in the gut, exploding in fiery fingers of flame over his abdomen as he struggled to break free.

“We remember.” Instincts moved him, dropped him to a knee, rolled the demon off his back. _Stronger together_ John’s instincts. Dean’s hands reached out and pulled the demon who wasn’t him close, his eyes flicking from those that mimicked his own to the little girl’s. “We’ll see about the dying part though.” His hands moved, faster than either of them expected, snapping the neck, dropping the body to the floor. 

Her eyes went wide, demon yellow and black. Not-Dean’s face melted and in its place was darkness, a puddle of darkness in the shape of a man. Dean looked from the little girl to the puddle and back again. “Your turn.”

She quirked her head to the side, showing the wound in her face where flames licked at her flesh. Dean felt the movement like a blow to his shoulder and flinched. “Do you think you can just kill me, Dean?”

“We aim to try.” 

“I’m no simple demon like that one. He was just a tool.”

“Don’t care.” Dean moved closer. She sneered and threw more fire. _Hand_. Sam moved Dean’s hand, deflecting the fire into the inky puddle behind him. An inhuman scream filled the room.

“You are reckless, Dean. Your father would never be so reckless.”

Dean’s head twitched, his eyes darkening. “No? Maybe you underestimate more than just Dean.” _Push._

The little body flew away, stopping just short of the wall and turning back to him. Her eyebrow raised. “I’m impressed. Perhaps I chose the wrong brother.”

Dean smiled. “You’re still not getting it, are you?”

He turned, anticipating her next move, letting John direct his body and Sam the gifts that had been awakened inside him, a conduit for _SamDeanJohn_ …each of them doing what they did best, together. Fire danced around the room. Blow by blow he and the little girl’s body moved closer to one another, closer to oblivion. Each blow getting harder and closer to physical contact.

“What is it that I’m not getting, Dean?” It asked as they came together, his hands locked on her shoulders, her hands burning into his chest. She was smiling triumphantly as his flesh burned, but his smile was no less victorious as he leaned closer to her to whisper.

“I’m not Dean.”

His thumbs bit into her skin, through the disguise of flesh. Fire erupted, oozing like blood over his skin. Her shriek seared in his ears, but he didn’t stop, not until the body was falling limp in his hands and the air around him grew thick with black, inky sulfur…The fire in the room seem to stop, as if holding its breath, then coalesced, swirling into a fiery whirlwind that seemed to surround the darkness, absorb it, burn it…Wind tore through the space, knocking Dean to his knees and feeding the flames before sucking them out through the door, out into the hallway…lighting walls and carpets as it went. 

Dean took one stumbling step toward Sam before his knees collapsed and he was swallowed up in a darkness blacker than night.

 

_Dean. You need to wake up Dean._

“Sam.” Dean groaned and opened one eye, regretting it instantly as bright light, white and startling bit into the pain he hadn’t yet identified in his head. _Dean, I’m here…right here._

A hand on his arm made Dean attempt opening his eye again, finding a soft, female hand that he followed up to a white clad shoulder, a soft smile…a nurse he realized slowly. The rest of the room slowly came into focus. “Hospital?” She nodded and he swallowed. _Sam?_

Sam’s touch inside him was gentle, comforting. “What…I mean…how?”

“There was a fire.” She fiddled with his IV and checked the thick white bandages that covered his hands. “You were very lucky, Mr. Winchester. Not everyone was.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “Who…I mean…” He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. “My brother…” He licked his lips, clinging to the feeling of Sam inside of him. “My brother and my father…we were trying to help…”

Her eyes turned sad as she turned away. Dean couldn’t breathe. “Tell me.” 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

_No. No. No. Sammy. Where are you?_

“No one else survived. It was a terrible fire.”

_Right here, Dean. Always._

Hot tears burned tracks into his face. Dean turned away from her and curled in on himself, screaming silently into his pillow. _No. No. No. No. Nonononononono._

_Dean._

“No!” Dean screamed, slamming his head back against the pillow. His body convulsed and the room filled with people, then something cool pressed into him and the darkness came back to claim him.

 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been involved in an incident at this building, is it Mr. Winchester?” The detective had been kind enough and seemed to believe Dean’s story, but Dean was still lost in a looping agony of pain.

“What? Um…no. Last year.”

“I understand you were a victim of the serial killer Kendall Garrett.”

Dean nodded dully, tears once again burning down his face. “What brought you back there?”

“My brother.” Dean’s voice cracked. It felt like he did too. “Look…I’m…I can’t.”

She smiled softly and stood, touching his hand. “I’m sorry. It isn’t important right now. I’ll let you rest. If you think of anything else important, give me a call.”

 

“Okay Mr. Winchester, you’re all set. There’s a taxi waiting for you at the front door, and I’ll be taking you down to meet it.”

“Thank you.” Dean sat dully in the wheelchair and waited. His lap held a pile of papers, including the invoice he needed to get the Impala out of impound. He glanced down as she put his discharge paperwork on top. He stared. The ache inside him doubled. Samuel Winchester.

Dean had taken Sam’s wallet when he’d left the hotel that afternoon in New Mexico, before Sam had taken off. Dean closed his eyes. _Sammy…I can’t do this….I can’t…not like this…I can’t…I need you…_

“Are you sure there isn’t someone we can call to get you?”

Dean looked up at the pretty blond candy striper who was at a loss as to how to help him. He shook his head miserably. “No. They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

 

He had the taxi take him to the impound to get his car, even though the front windshield was shot to hell and it got pretty banged up dealing with demon children, and he didn't know how to explain anything. His jaw worked hard to keep him from bawling as the clerk handed him the receipt and two plastic bags with the things from the car, cause it’s Sam’s duffle and it makes it that much more real. 

He was grateful as he popped the trunk to throw the duffle into that he’d emptied it of guns that afternoon for cleaning, before Sam had felt their father crash…grateful they’d never found their way back to the trunk. He’d be sitting in jail now if they had, not pulling out of the police impound yard with a blown out windshield and an empty place beside him.

 _But not inside_.

“Fuck you.” Dean pulled his sun glasses from the second bag and turned the volume on the radio to full blast and tears out onto the street. He doesn’t mean to go there…but the Impala seems to know the way without him. The building is gone, burned to little more than ash and a few cinder blocks. _Sam….Sammy…._

Slowly Dean stepped out of the car. If he closed his eyes he could picture the dead bodies scattered over the charred grass…could taste the sulfur in the air…His chest clutched and he fell back against the Impala. 

_Dean._

“I can’t.” Dean reached in through the window for the rest of the contents of the bag, a map of California, a lighter and a single white sheet of paper. He didn't want to read it, didn't want to let it be true…real. 

With a shuddering breath, Dean lifted the paper, blinking several times to make Sam’s scribbled hand readable.

_Dean,_

_You’re probably pretty pissed with me right now. I know…I promised I’d never leave you again…and, after…everything…well, you’ll just have to believe it was the right thing. I never meant to hurt you like this…but I know now what I have to do._

_If you’re reading this then you already know everything I’m going to tell you, you just won’t have accepted it yet. When you gave yourself to me the way you did…when you…Damn Dean, you fucking let yourself get branded, just to make me…to give me…you held it all and made me safe…I need you to know that this thing, between us…it was never your fault…it was never something you forced on me. God Dean, I’ve loved you ever since I can remember…wanted you since I was old enough to realize what that meant._

_I know what it wants…I know and I can’t…can’t let it have it….I gave it to you, everything It wants from me. I don’t have the strength to use it, Dean…not after Garrett. As much as I don’t want to admit it, he took something from me, broke me in ways I’ll never put back together. I’m going to crack, I’m going to break. I already have so much._

_I’m so tired, Dean. But you…you’re my strength. When you come for me, you’ll understand. You’ll know. Always Dean. Always with you. Always inside of you. I love you so fucking much I can’t breathe if I think about it…and I’m sorry…so sorry…I had to push so hard, so you’d know…so you’d figure it out…Everything…for you…for Mom…and Dad…and Jess…Everything and always…._

_Sam_

Dean slid slowly to the ground, crumpling the note in his fist as he bit it to keep from screaming. _You were my strength Sammy…always…I’m nothing without you._

For a long time he sat there, hot tears and pain held together by his grip on a letter he’d never wanted to read… _Dean._

He shook his head. “No. Let me be.”

_You look like shit._

“How would you know?”

 _Mirror, doofus._ Dean pulled himself up and took a deep, shaky breath.

He got back into the car and brought the engine to life. He angled the rear view mirror and looked at himself. The dark circles under his eyes were deep and as he stared he could almost imagine he could see Sam’s eyes there under his own. “I’m not forgiving you anytime soon.”

_I know._

Dean nodded, rubbing at his puffy eyes. “And I’m playing fucking Metallica all the way to Kansas.”

Laughter echoed through him, laughter he couldn’t quite share as he pulled out onto the road, setting course for the nearest freeway that would take him out of California. He put a tape in the tape deck and cranked the volume, singing along as he roared out of Palo Alto. 

_Say your prayers little one  
Dont forget, my son  
To include everyone_

_Tuck you in, warm within  
Keep you free from sin  
Till the sandman he comes_

_Sleep with one eye open  
Gripping your pillow tight_

_Exit light  
Enter night  
Take my hand  
Off to never never land_


End file.
